George's Grief
by Irish Thorn
Summary: A one-shot about George's depressive state after Fred's death. Bear in mind it take place quite some time after his twin's death. Rated T for the use of a curse word.


_A/N: This is only supposed to be a one-shot, but I may add to it at a later date. It is only ever meant to be George's response to Fred's death, but it isn't immediately following said death. This is just to show that start of his healing process, and the length of time it took him to get there._

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><p>"Expecto Patronum!" George yelled the incantation, surprised when nothing happened at all. He was thinking of his happiest memory, the time when he and Fred turned Ron's teddy bear into a giant spider. The twins had laughed and laughed, not even minding when their father had given them matching red bottoms. It was the memory that he always chose; had always worked before. He'd been able to conjure a corporeal patronus since he'd first been taught the spell back in his seventh year. Perhaps if he chose a different memory he would have better results.<p>

"Expecto Patronum!" Still nothing. This time, he'd chosen the memory of him and Fred bursting their way out of school in seventh year, setting off fireworks, and causing a general ruckus for Dolores Umbridge, Head Bitch at the time, to clean up. That was a very happy day; him and Fred went straight off to their new shop and immediately began setting up for opening day. He decided to give it another try. There had to be a memory that evoked enough happiness to work.

"Expecto Patronum!" The third time made it seem that much worse that he couldn't do it. That time, the memory he'd used had been of the time he and Fred had tricked Ron into testing their latest invention: a Wizard's Chess set in which the pieces rose up against the one controlling them and attacked. It was hilarity all around when they'd tested that product. The memory of that day still had him laughing at random moments.

The whole idea was fruitless. He hadn't been able to conjure a patronus since Fred had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. That irrevocable sadness that had over taken him since that exact moment in time had made it completely impossible to be truly happy; even just for the few seconds it took to create a patronus.

He was quite depressed. He was always depressed anymore. He had trouble eating at times, rarely spoke with anyone outside of his family, and hadn't been in his own joke shop since the night Fred died over three years ago. The shop was still running quite smoothly, Ron had dropped out of Auror training to take over for the absent twins, but George couldn't even think about it without pain. He'd been living at home with his parents, not even able to enter his own flat above the shop without being hit with the onslaught of memories about his dead twin. It was hard to breathe every single day; some days harder than others. He'd taken to not even coming out of his room; he was a wizard after all. His mother made sure he always had at least a little something to eat, he never felt the need to socialize, and he always knew the best times of day to slip off to the loo without having to actually see anyone.

He lived a sad life; even he could point it out. He had no interest in doing anything about it, as he had no reason to even be alive. He should have died right alongside of his twin that day in Hogwarts. It wasn't as if anyone would really miss him. It was as if they'd both died that day anyway, when all of the spark left George's life. He never bothered with anything; not even seeing his two little nieces that Bill and Fleur carted in every other week or so. He had no interest in living.

His parents often tried to coax him out, but his siblings had pretty well given up the ghost. He had no intention of joining society at this point. There was a knock at the door, signaling that his mother had come to bring him something to eat. He didn't acknowledge her, and eventually heard her set something down outside of the door. He wasn't interested in eating whatever she'd made, however, and chose to just leave the tray outside.

George laid in his bed, trying to replay every memory he had of his twin over and over in his mind; there were a lot. Nearly every memory he had was a shared memory between the two brothers. Fred was more than his brother though, he was the other half of his soul.

The meager amount of light that was peeking through the curtains that he'd drawn shut eventually disappeared completely. He'd been laying there, once again, for the whole day. He was far more upset than normal, discovering that he couldn't conjure a patronus any longer.

He stopped eating. He didn't enjoy it anyway; always having a memory of Fred and him around the table with his family with every bite he managed to force down. He went nearly a week without so much as opening the door to his room. He was pretty sure that his family had given up on him; with good reason. He didn't want their sympathy, didn't want their help. He wasn't sure what he wanted out of life, but he knew that it wasn't going to be much a life without Fred.

One day, the door just opened without a knock or any other warning that someone would come barging into his life; but someone did. That someone was a beautiful angel of hope and happiness; someone that he never thought he would see again. He knew he looked terrible, but she really didn't look that great either. She looked like she hadn't slept much, hadn't been outside in ages. He probably looked much worse, though.

The woman standing in front of him, looking for all the world like an angel of death, was none other than Angelina Johnson. She stormed into his life at that point, and made him look her in the eye. The two didn't say a word to one another; but they didn't have to. They sat next to one another in the darkened room, grieving. There were tears, there was some gentle touching of an arm or shoulder, but most importantly, there was healing.

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><p><em>AN: Please review. I'd love some feedback on such a depressing piece of work._


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